Nattie turns teacher!
by JoMiSm
Summary: Specifically, Natasha Romanoff goes undercover as Nancy Rushman at a school! She is looking for a specific man's daughter in order to reach that specific man... but there is more to the story than anyone knows and Natasha might have to make some tough choices in the end. (Of course, to get to the plot twist, you may have to read more than the first chappie!)
1. Chapter 1

_**A big ole 'THANK YOU' to Pure-Black-Wings for translating the Russian! YOU ARE THE BOMB DIGGETY. I will tell you what the Russian means in the bottom author's note, just so you know.**_

* * *

Well, it wasn't the worst undercover mission she'd ever been on.

Natasha sat at her desk, though at the moment she couldn't be called Natasha. She was Nancy Rushman, and she was currently a seventh grade teacher, waiting on her class to come in. She straightened her floral-how so very girly!-shirt and mentally reviewed the details of her mission.

She was Nancy Rushman, married to Francis Rushman. Certainly, neither of them had heard of Clint Barton or Natasha Romanoff! 'Nancy' was looking for a man of questionable threat level, and his child supposedly went to this school. She had no clue of the kid's name, just that the QTL's name was Alexander Petricov. Her goal was to take him in or take him out. It was originally a solo mission, but Clint didn't want her going in alone. Therefore, he was punished by Coulson for putting up a fuss by having his alias be his middle name, Francis, and he was tacked on to the mission as 'Nancy's' husband. He was to be backup in case anything went wrong.

The bell rang, and Natasha was instantly alert, pretending to type something on her computer as the children trickled in. A couple murmured between themselves at the sudden change of teacher-where's Ms. Bernadette? What happened to their blonde-haired, blue-eyed, loving teacher over the weekend?

Natasha walked to the front of the room. "Good morning, class." The class quieted down, their curious eyes on her. "I am Mrs. Rushman, and I'll be your new teacher for a while; Ms. Bernadette had some family business in another state." Natasha turned and wrote 'Mrs. Rushman' across the board.

While her back was turned, a couple of the boys exchanged looks. _They_ didn't mind the change, if you know what I mean.

Throughout the day, she kept her eye out for the child. She had no clue what the kid looks like, only that she was a girl. She had positively no leads, though she did manage to keep her cover story carefully preserved. She was on her way to the teacher's lounge for lunch, where she was going to try to get some information from other teachers, when she came upon this scene in the hallway.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" A boy, whatshisface... John. He was taunting a petite brunette girl, her beautiful pale blue eyes brimming over with tears. He held her notebook over her head. She reached for it, but he laughed and held it higher. His friends were laughing along with him.

"John!" Natasha barked down the hallway. He jumped, startled. "Lunch detention. For a month."

"Wha-that's not fair!" he protested, looking astonished. He dropped the book, along with the girl's other things, on the ground.

"Be happy I'm not sending you to ISS or ALE." Natasha growled. She sent her patented Black Widow glare at his head and he scurried sullenly away with his abashed friends. She may have just made herself look like a mean teacher, but that was just mean. She walked over to the girl, now kneeling to pick up her things. She knelt beside her.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked. The girl looked up at her blankly. Natasha recognized the look-she didn't speak English! "¿Habla usted español?" she tried. No luck. "Parlez-vous français?" Again, no luck. "Вы говорите по-русски?"

"Да!" The girl sounded as though she would cry from relief. "И вы?"

Natasha gathered the rest of the girl's things and helped her up. "Бегло." Natasha said with a wink, helping her up. "Как зовут. тебя?"

"Lidia Petricova." she responded. The target's daughter.

"Ну, Lidia," Natasha said. "Вы хотели бы съесть со мной сегодня?" It could make her situation worse in the long run, but putting her in the nearly unsupervised lunchroom was pretty much asking for trouble.

She nodded. "Да, пожалуйста." She was still so thankful to find someone that she could talk to that she didn't even think about and social consequences that might come of her eating with a teacher. Instead of going back to the cafeteria or the teacher's lounge, Natasha led her to her classroom. They did talk, Natasha discreetly confirming through conversation a few things that she needed to know.

* * *

Later, when school let out, Natasha walked over to to her 'husband's' car, which was waiting for her. She smiled like a good actress and climbed in, talking seriously as soon as they were out of range of the school. You never know who's watching. As soon as possible, she looked questioningly over at Clint. He grinned. "Yes, it's safe to talk, Nat." he said.

Natasha exhaled. "Good. I'm tired of watching what I say. It's hard enough on a regular mission; it's even harder when I have to sensor everything for children, too."

"Sounds like _somebody _likes her new job." Clint said dryly, stopping at a stop light. He glanced over at her. She looked tired, but normal tired, not exhausted. Normal tired, they could deal with. Exhausted would take a long time to get rid of, and it was time that they didn't have.

"Shut up, Francis." Natasha responded. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Learn anything about Petricov?" Clint asked, skillfully changing the subject. The color of the light changed again and he kept driving.

"He's in town on business, apparently, but it is 'a long trip this time,' or she wouldn't have been brought to a new school. Her words, not mine." Natasha said.

"Ah, so you did find the girl." Clint said.

"Yeah. Brown hair, light blue eyes, only speaks Russian. She's supposed to have a translator flown in in a few days, so make of that what you will." Natasha said.

Clint nodded mutely, mulling over that information, as they pulled into the house.

It was an actual house, one bed, two bath. It was perfect for their cover story. (However, that did mean either that they shared a bed or that one of them took the couch... details for later.) Natasha stepped out of the SHIELD issued car and walked up to the house, her heels clicking on the concrete. Clint followed shortly after. They still had forms to fill out (one for every single day of the mission. Every. Single. Day.) and allllll kinds of stuff to do... what do you say we check back in a few hours later?

* * *

_**New story! Yeah! I know, I really don't need to start a new one. Shaddap. **_

_**In order (Nat bold, Lidia italics) , **_**"Do you speak Russian?"**** "**_Yes_**," then, "**_And you_**?" "Fluently. What is your name?"** "_Lidia Petricova"_ **"Well, Lidia, would you like to have lunch with me?"** _"Yes, please." _

_**Taaaa daaaaaaah! :D Again, thanks Pure-Black-Wings! **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Welcome back to Nattie Turns Teacher! Russian that isn't translated in the chapter is translated at the bottom of the page. Big thanks to Pure-black-wings for translating the Russian. Love you! Disclaimer that I forgot: I don't own Marvel. Marvel owns Marvel. I own this laptop. Well, I don't even own this laptop, my parents do. Wow. So I literally own NOTHING. Now I feel bad. Oh well MARVELLLLL **_

* * *

Though both of them had allotted paperwork, Natasha did all of it.

What a great way to start this chapter.

"I swear, Coulson let you come just to punish me." Natasha said, tossing the paperwork onto the coffee table that Clint's feet were propped on. He looked up, amused, at her irritated face. "Seriously, what did I do to him?"

"Nothing, Tasha." Clint said. "I promise he doesn't hate you, he just loooooves me!" The only reason that he got to come was because Clint managed to convince Coulson that she needed backup and having a husband made the cover story more convincing.

"I'm pretty sure he _did _display some favoritism there; I should file a complaint." Natasha complained, plopping down beside him.

Oh, did I call it a couch earlier? I believe the technical term is 'love seat,' I kid you not. It was a couch with two cushions, so Natasha draped her feet over Clint's lap and onto the arm.

It was a nice moment.

Then Natasha, not being able to relax when things needed to be done, got up. "I'm going to take a shower tonight so that I can sleep later tomorrow." Natasha said. It was kind of a lie; she wasn't going to sleep in, she was too stuck in her routine to change it now. They both ignored that fact and Natasha went to shower anyway.

By the time they both showered (individually! Why did your mind go there, you filthy thing!) and Natasha'd layed out her clothes for the next day, it was time for them to head to bed.

Now would be the time for that issue previously mentioned: bed space.

"You hog the covers one. single. time. and you are getting the couch." Natasha said, snuggling into the covers. ...Though she would kill you if you ever said that she 'snuggled,' period.

"Okay..." Clint complied with a sigh. He knew that she wasn't joking.

Then, they slept, got up (at the regular time), and got ready to go undercover again.

* * *

'Nancy' sat at her desk, again, in a black sweater with a white/silver/black scarf. She felt unbearably impractical; her boots were too tight to hold a knife. (Not to say that she wasn't armed, though; she was, I assure you.) She was typing again, but this time, it was to check her handiwork. Last night, before she'd finished the paperwork, she'd changed Lidia's schedule so that she would be in her class. That made it easier to keep an eye on her.

Her handiwork had been successful; when the bell rang, Lidia walked in with the crowd. She was looking down shyly.

"Miss Rushman!" called one of the girls, the strawberry-blonde named Joanna. "Can I, like, type this into Google translate? I have no clue what she's saying." She did genuinely want to know what Lidia had to say, but she didn't speak Russian.

Natasha looked at Lidia with a raised eyebrow, obviously meaning 'Can you repeat yourself?'

"Я не говорю по-английски." Lidia said again. The girl didn't recognize any of it. Natasha nodded.

"She said that she doesn't speak English." Natasha translated.

"Я сожалею." Lidia added. Natasha added that part, too.

Joanna nodded; she assumed that Mrs. Rushman knew a little bit of Russian, but she didn't think that she knew how to respond. (I mean, a teacher couldn't possibly be that cool, right?)

"IT'S OOOOOKAY." Joanna said, as though the volume would make her understand her. "I UNDERSTAND."

"Joanna, talking louder doesn't mean she understands." Natasha admonished. She turned to Lidia. "она сказала что это нормально; она понимает."

"You speak Russian?" Joanna asked, astonished. Their conversation was being listened in to by the entire unashamed class.

"Da." Natasha replied.

"How many languages do you speak?" A boy in the back of the room piped up.

It was a risk, but... "How many do you know?"

"Spanish?" called someone.

"Sí, hablo español." Natasha replied.

"French?" another boy asked.

"Oui, en français aussi, petit garçon." Natasha replied.

Their stares were full of awe. Three languages... she just became the coolest person on the planet.

"What about Japanese-"

"-Chinese-"

"-No, Italian!"

"-Irish!"

"はい、私は日本語を話す, 和中國, e italiano, agus an Ghaeilge." Natasha replied. Utter silence. She smiled her teacher-smile. "Now, let's get started on the lesson."

No one even noticed that she'd changed the subject from Lidia to something else.

* * *

_**More on this day at school later! The Russian that Natasha did not clearly translate for the reader in this chapter was 'I'm sorry' from Lidia and Natasha saying a moment later 'She said that it is alright; she understands.' **_


End file.
